


Interlaced Destinations

by TheLazerBeam



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/F, F/M, Fucking plot bunnies man, Incest, M/M, Multi, Possessive Tom Riddle, Really Lazer?, So many plot ideas, Time Travel, anyway
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-25
Updated: 2017-11-25
Packaged: 2019-06-19 16:52:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,375
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15514263
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheLazerBeam/pseuds/TheLazerBeam
Summary: To save Harry's life, Dumbledore travels in time and takes Tom from a dying Mérope Riddle to the arms of the Potter family. Tom and Harry, then, grow up as brothers. But this relationship develops at unimaginable levels.Going to make this shit-dump better guys.... one day





	Interlaced Destinations

Chaos.

Blood.

War.

And the heady scent of death that emerged from Hogwarts' famous School of Witchcraft and Wizardry forged the scene of the long-awaited final battle. On the one hand, the weak students used their last strengths to protect their school, as well as the few remaining members of the Order of the Phoenix and a small group of Aurors who could still stand on their feet. On the other side, in obvious numerical advantage, the Death Eaters, mercenaries and dark creatures who blindly served the Dark Lord used all their strength and thirst for blood to win that battle and usher in a new era: an age of darkness. Thus, on the outskirts of the Whomping Willow, just on the banks of the Forbidden Forest, following the path that led to the main gates of the castle amidst the green lawn which was now blood-stained.

It was a lost war.

And anyone observing the battle between Harry Potter and Lord Voldemort could claim that.

The boy-who-lived once more had earned his title. He had gone to the Forbidden Forest as Voldemort had commanded and had received the Avada Kedrava willingly to destroy the last Horcrux that resided in his body, and with the timely help of none other than Narcissa Malfoy, Voldemort had not mistrusted his supposed death; which had allowed him to wake up within a few hours to begin that decisive battle taking the Dark Lord by surprise.

All the Horcrux had been destroyed.

It was an equal battle now.

At least that's what Harry Potter thought at first.

That is until he came across the magnitude of the Dark Lord's power.

"Crucio!"

And more screams left his lips.

"See, Harry Potter?" Voldemort's amused voice echoed through the bleak scene of the battle. With a smirk on his snake face, he stared at the bloody boy at his feet. "The difference of power between the Dark Lord and a reckless seventeen-year-old whose only talent had been lucky in life is evident."

Harry did not answer.

Her body remained motionless only reacting mechanically to the spasms of pain. His wand lay to pieces on the ground. And with tears sliding through his blood-soaked face, Harry knew he had lost. With the cruel smile still dancing on the snake face, Voldemort went down on one knee to be at Harry's level, grabbing the boy's disheveled hair with one hand as he pressed the wand painfully on his neck with the other he forced Harry to face him. And so, green and red interspersed intensely.

"Where's Dumbledore, Harry? Where is your precious headmaster to save you?"

"He'll appear," he said weakly.

"Oh, but then you're already dead little one."

"Doesn't matter...h-he'll defeat you!"

"Now, Harry, it's time for you to meet your parents again," he whispered, stroking the others face that was covered with blood and tears. "Say hello to them for me, will you?"

The two magicians, however, remained oblivious to a single spectator who from the beginning had contemplated the entire unfolding of the battle from the window of his office. Albus Dumbledore at that very moment was standing stoically in front of the window in the director's tower, which gave him an accurate view of the bloody battlefield. His heart tightened more and more as he contemplated every death, every torture, every evidence that they were about to lose that war. But nothing was worse than watching his precious pupil succumb slowly to the killer of his parents.

Harry had fought so hard.

Harry had worked so hard.

Harry had dedicated himself like no other.

But he was now one step away from premature death.

And why was Dumbledore not standing next to his pupil at that moment, dueling beside him against that monster who once had also been a student alien to the evils of the world?

Yes, many might wonder.

Many might think that Dumbledore was gaining time to flee. Many might think that the famous Hogwarts headmaster was a coward who left the responsibility to his students. Many might think that the one who had once been considered one of the most powerful wizards of all time was an old manipulator who, contemplating the impending defeat, had decided to hide in his office to wait for certain death.

Even Minerva McGonagall, who had just entered her office with a gleaming gold box in her hands, found herself pondering it.

"Ah, Minerva, I'm glad you were able to come and get back safely from my safe in Gringotts."

"What does that mean, Albus?" Her voice was tired and confused. "Why are not you there? Without you, Potter boy will not stand a chance."

"If I were there, then Harry would still not stand a chance, my dear Minerva. Here, however, I can use this." He pointed to the little box the teacher had left on his desk.

"What is in the box?"

"Our last hope," he replied simply. Then, with a brief nod, Dumbledore indicated that he needed to be alone. The Transfiguration teacher looked him in the eyes. "I hope you know what you're doing Albus."

Finally, when the door of his office was abruptly closed by a furious Minerva McGonagall, he opened the little gold box and took out what looked to be a time-turner. This was the size of his hand, forged in pure gold and instead of sand, a mysterious silver powder was in the hourglass. It was a relic from Merlin's time, a turnkey combined with door-keys, which he had demanded for months and months to find, and now it was the last hope to end that war to save Harry and other innocent lives, like Severus Snape, for example, who in the previous year had refused to kill his mentor and thus succumbed to the Perpetual Vow.

If everything went according to plan, countless lives would be saved and two orphans could have the chance to be happy.

"...Powerful..."

But if a little detail wrong, the consequences would be terrible.

"... And when we interfere, dangerous."

"Our last hope," he repeated to himself, placing a letter lying in the pocket of his gleaming purple robe and the hourglass around his neck. Then, taking a deep breath, Dumbledore took seven turns at the time turner and at the end of the last turn, he felt the whole world change, spinning around him, while on the battlefield Voldemort's Avada Kedrava reached the chest of Harry.

A cold wind was through London, making the few people circling the deserted streets that late afternoon shrink into their coats. A pale woman, however, was exposed to the icy wind that went over her face in only a ragged gray dress, the old moth-eaten navy shawl wrapped a small parcel in her trembling arms. It was a baby, a newborn baby who was crying with all the strength of his little lungs because of the cold. For his mother, the pale woman who carried him was using her last strength to take him to an orphanage where she knew someone would take good care of her child.

Mérope Riddle was about to die.

And she knew it.

A few hours ago she had given birth in a dark and deserted alley without any help. The dried blood still stained her dress and her pale shaking complexion revealed all cold that had encased her body. Abandoned by the muggle she had loved so much, knowing that her father and brother were trapped in Azkaban, Merope no longer had the strength to resist. She knew that the little baby, the fruit of a great unrequited love lived on potions and lies, would need her, but she could not take it anymore. She had given up. And now, using her last strength, the direct descendant of Salazar Slytherin staggered to the Muggle orphanage that stood in that gloomy neighborhood of London.

Arriving at the iron gates that led to the orphanage, Mérope let himself slip to the floor with a sigh, snuggling his son a little closer. She no longer had the strength to move on.

"Do you need help?"

Looking up, the dying woman came upon an elderly man with a long beard and complacent blue eyes wearing a curious purple outfit. But she was too tired to pay attention to anything but deliver her son to a safe place.

"Tom ..." She murmured, holding out his hands to give the unknown man the small package. "Tom from his father...Marvolo...to his grandfather...Riddle...Tom Marvolo...Riddle."

Without saying a single word, the man accepted the small package and instantly the newborn seemed to calm down feeling the reassuring wave of magic that now surrounded him. When Merope heard the disappearance of her son's cry, she let a small smile adorn her parched lips and finally gave herself up to the welcoming arms of death, murmuring her last words as she left:

"I hope he looks like his father."

Dumbledore then looked at the lifeless body with a sad look.

"Goodbye, Merope."

Adjusting the baby in his hold carefully, he murmured,

"He will be a great magician, and now he may have the chance to be happy."

In the next instant, Dumbledore took the time turner and with five more rounds to the hourglass, he felt the whole world disappear again, with the scene of that cold muggle London evening turning vertiginously around him. In front of the gates of the orphanage, two women would soon find only the lifeless body of Mérope Riddle.

When Dumbledore reached his next destination, a wave of nostalgia struck him. The place consisted of a small village, which was centered on a beautiful, tree-lined square surrounded by marble benches and flower beds, there was still a small, old baroque-style church and a modest family cemetery behind the church, a post office, a grocery store, and a few retail stores. The residential streets, in turn, were lined with picturesque houses that offered warm, familiar air to the setting.

"Godric's Hollow ..." he whispered to the sleeping baby in his arms. "This will be your home now, Tom.

So, walking quietly under the dark cloak of nightfall, Dumbledore followed the streets of houses aligned with thoughts lost at a time when he and his family had lived in that same quiet village. He had moved with his family after his father was arrested in Azkaban for murdering a muggle, and in that quiet village his mother Kendra, his brother Aberforth, and especially his sister Ariana, had been very happy. That is, at least until his sister's untimely death. Dumbledore did not forgive himself for what had happened to him, and he might never forgive himself forever.

Sighing, the Headmaster of Hogwarts thought it best to change the course of his thoughts.

His mission was to leave little Tom Riddle in the care of a loving family.

And no family would be as loving as the Potter family.

It was what was engraved in the mailbox in front of the beautiful house at the end of the street. The Potter family house was the largest and the furthest from the other houses of the village, a large, cozy house surrounded by a black iron gate in which numerous magical flowers and Muggle roses. The newly wedded Potter marriage had just moved, and at Lily's insistence, they chose the town of Godric's Hollow for the opportunity of living together with Wizard and Muggle neighbors. However, the grandeur of the house did not negate the obvious blood-blooded progeny of the patriarch of the family. The place, however, openly preserved the beauty of a loving home that housed a cheerful wizard and a beautiful witch who were just married and very happy that they could not wait to start a family.

With a simple wave, Dumbledore opened the iron gate and approached the entrance of the house. Then, muttering a few words, the old Headmaster of Hogwarts summoned a basket and laid the sleeping child, still wrapped in his mother's shawl, inside. With a sad smile, he thought this was the second child he'd put in someone's door. However, he knew that in this house Tom would be loved and that way, the child he had once left at the door of number four on Privet Drive would not need to suffer this fate. He grabbed the letter from his robe and carefully laid it on the infant's chest.

"Welcome to your family, Tom."

With these last words, in a whisper, the headmaster placed a letter beside the baby's sleeping face. Then, feeling the time turner shake on his chest, Dumbledore disappeared knowing that his work there was done and that now he could return to what he hoped would be a new future.

At that same moment, the door of the house opened and a beautiful red-headed woman, still in shock, called her husband. Lily Potter carried the baby inside while James Potter had walked down the stairs from his study. "Lily? Why is there a baby in our living room?"

"I'm not really sure James, but there is a note." Lily waved her wand for any spells, and once deemed safe she picked the letter up and opened it with James peering over her shoulder.

The day will come that this baby will be a powerful wizard. But now, he needs a loving family who can guide him on the path of love and kindness. He no longer has anyone in this world. Please take care of him.

"Lily..." James, who had just read the letter aloud, looked at his wife with uncertainty.

They had just gotten married.

They were too young and still immature.

Though it seemed Lily Potter didn't care.

"Hello, Tom, welcome," she whispered fondly, wrapping her arms around the sleepy baby who was now cooing happily. "This silly, funny-looking man is your father, see?

James, then, could not help but smile.

Even if their family grew faster than they expected, he knew they could get through it together.

Four years have passed since little Thomas Charlus Potter, as Tom had been named after James' late father, had been left in the door of the Potter family and welcomed by James and Lily as a true son. However, to the surprise and joy of the couple, after these four years, Lily found herself pregnant and could not be happier with the possibility of giving Tom a little brother or a little sister.

But little Tom was not at all excited about it.

Four years ago he had the full attention of his parents and now a new baby arrived to steal what was his by right. He just could not accept it. So when Tom noticed the small package in the arms of his mother, who had just arrived from St. Mungo, he gritted his teeth and clenched his little fists, wondering how he could get rid of that intruder. Obviously his attempts were futile, even offering his newborn brother to Mr. Rufus from the grocery store for a bar of chocolate and a few pieces of candy, but unfortunately, the smiling man did not accept, thus gaining the fury of Tom, who saw his plans fail one by one.

Little Harry James Potter now had a birthday, and his brother, Tom, at the age of four, still hated him with all his might for stealing his parents. Lily Potter, however, had always been a very intelligent woman, and as she watched the reaction of her eldest son, she wondered how to make him accept his little brother. After thinking and thinking for weeks on end as they watched their interaction, the woman approached Tom on that Halloween night and sat him on her lap in the living room couch while little Harry lay sleeping on a comfy cushion beside them. In a few hours, she and James would go out to a party in the Minister of Magic's mansion, leaving the boys with Mrs. McPhee, the kindly elderly witch who had lived in the village for years and was always willing to babysit the two little angels.

"What is it, Mama?" Tom murmured, glancing sideways and irritated at the sleeping baby on the big cushion.

"What do you think of your little brother, Tom?"

"I think he's an intruder who stole you and Daddy from me," he said openly, folding his arms in a bored pose.

"Oh, sweetie. Your father and I will always love you. Our attention will be on both on you as our love. Don't ever think otherwise, no matter what anyone says. Besides wouldn't you like to be a big brother?"

Tom gave her a curious look. "What's so special about being a big brother?"

"Why you're a big brother you can teach your little brother all types of things. Set a good example for your brother, protect him, show him gamed and magic. He'll count on you and trust you with his life."

"And why would I do that?" He muttered, still with his arms folded.

"Because he's yours, now."

"Mine?"

"Yes, Tom, he's yours."

With a sweet smile, Lily brought a drowsy Harry to put in Tom's arms. The older boy watched the baby intensely, frowning as if he were seriously considering something.

"Lily, we're going to be late!"

"I'm coming, love." With a kiss on top of Tom's head, Lily rose to put little Harry in his bedroom in the crib and give Mrs. McPhee the last instructions. Tom stood in the same spot and now looked at his little hands looking lost in thought.

"Harry...is mine?"

Strangely, he had liked how it sounded.

Late in the evening, when the clock struck midnight, Tom was in his bedroom in Morpheus's arms, just as Harry was in the next room, sleeping peacefully in his crib. Mrs. McPhee, for her part, had slept in a comfortable armchair in the living room with a Muggle novel on her lap, for at ten o'clock she had put the two little angels to sleep and had resolved to submerge in pleasant reading. So all the inhabitants of the house at that moment were oblivious to a man in black robes with a mad look who had just unlocked the iron gate with his wand and entered the house through the back doors.

Peter Pettigrew was not a bad person.

Useless and cowardly yes, but not really bad.

However, from the beginning of time, there seems to be nothing better to make an ordinary person become bad and unscrupulous than a loving disappointment, a rejection, and a disregard for one's feelings. By the age of eleven, Peter had met the handsome and gorgeous James Potter and has since followed him like a puppy. He was in love with James, but he never got to know about it, because by the fifth year, when he was about to reveal what he really felt, Peter saw the love of his life kissing an irritating redhead know-it-all.

His world had collapsed. And when the two were married, Peter saw the pain consume him. And when they announced the arrival of Tom to the family, a deep wave of rancor invaded it. And when the pregnancy and birth of little Harry were announced, madness finally consumed him

A madness that turned into hate.

And hatred that turned into a thirst for blood and vengeance.

Peter went ahead with his plan to decimate all those who made him suffer. What he did not know, however, was that in that year, at the insistence of his boss in the Aurors department, James Potter had accepted the annual invitation of the Minister of Magic, who made a point of inviting all the families of prestige for their luxurious parties.

That was why, as he entered the warm-hearted house whose decor gave off all of Lily's good taste, the obsessed man frowned at the sleeping lady in an armchair with an open book dangling from her lap.

He did not stop to think who this woman was.

He did not care if she was a good person or if she had children, grandchildren, or family.

He just pulled out his wand and murmured those two decisive words:

"Avada Kedrava!"

Then, in that comfortable armchair, lay only a body without life.

But the man with thin brown hair and a look of madness did not pause, he did not even pay attention to the fact that he had just usurped a life, moving on up the polished wooden stairs leading up to the bedrooms. When he opened the first door, he let out a snarl, stumbled out of a small guest lavatory, then moved to the next door, found himself entering an empty guest room. With his yellow teeth clenched with hatred, Peter moved on, and finally, as he opened the next door, his face lit up with a sickly, satisfied look.

The beautiful baby-blue, white, and beige room had a spell that mimicked the night sky of the Great Hall of Hogwarts and a spacious crib in the center, where at that moment an innocent Harry Potter was asleep. In Peter Pettigrew's eyes, however, that child was not innocent, but the embodiment of the disgusting love of James and Lily and the disregard of the Potter family patriarch for their feelings and torments.

In his room, at that moment, Tom woke with a start.

And without knowing why, the name of his brother left his lips:

"Harry?"

Even with conflicting feelings, that is, still hating the younger brother for appearing in their lives, but at the same time remembering the words of his mother that told him that Harry was his, Tom got up and went to the room next to his knowing that something strange was happening.

It was as if Harry called him.

It was as if Harry needed him.

Then, when the four-year-old boy silently entered his brother's room and watched a strange man standing in front of the crib, he saw that his suspicions were right. And when this same man raised his wand, in which a mighty emerald-green light shone, Tom felt an unthinking wave of despair consuming him. And without thinking twice, guided only by the fear of losing his brother, who was his, Tom reached out and roared:

"NO!" Feeling a powerful wave of accidental magic invade him the instant Harry opened his eyes and Peter cast the spell.

At the same time, the whole room was consumed by the powerful green light.

Tom ended up being thrown back.

Harry started to cry.

And Peter's body fell to the floor with a mute, lifeless thud.

Everything happened too fast. A phenomenon never before witnessed in the world of magic had occurred. The Death Curse had ricocheted off Peter Pettigrew to death, leaving little Harry scarred with a lightning scar on his forehead. A scar that would be famous one day. A scar that beyond the unwanted fame would give him a great surprise and joys.

"Harry ..." Tom immediately called for the baby as he rose from the floor and ran to the crib. As he passed by the corpse of the man who had tried to wound his brother, his eyes, now strangely tinged with red, narrowed with hatred. A powerful hatred that no four-year-old child should possess.

But it did not take long, and as he took his brother in his lap, all his hatred was dispelled, and his eyes returned to their natural color.

Harry was scared.

And Tom knew that.

He just did not stop to think about how he knew.

"I'm here, Harry," he whispered, taking the baby in his arms and spoke to Harry in a soft, soft voice. "You're safe, Harry, I'm here...I will not let anyone hurt you, never..."

The tears that threatened to fall didn't and Harry raised a chubby hand to touch his older brother's face. He gurgled excitedly and gave the older boy a beautiful smile. And Tom, unconsciously, found himself responding to the smile.

"You're mine now, you know that? I'll take care of you forever."

Bright green eyes focused on him and Tom let the baby hold onto one of his fingers. Harry opened his mouth and made sounds Tom thought as strange.

"T-to! Tom!" The baby clapped his hands in delight and kept saying the name. "Tom! Tom! Tom!"

Harry had said his first word. And Tom, looking at those beautiful emerald-green eyes, prettier than his mother's, had melted into a proud smile.

The two did not know, but at that moment, their souls had just connected.

And a new prophecy had just come out.

At Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Albus Dumbledore was finally interviewing the last person who had shown interest in the position of Divination Teacher. She was an eccentric woman, who looked more like a charlatan, but still a great-great-great-granddaughter of the famous psychic Cassandra Trelawney.

Suddenly, however, the woman, Sibyl, stared out of focus, her body trembling, and began to say in a strangely hoarse voice:

"The one marked with a scar when accomplishing the impossible..."

Dumbledore frowned but listened in silence.

Perhaps the poor woman was able to contemplate prophecies without even knowing it.

"...Except for the love of him who once hated him. United through time, those who once faced each other as mortal enemies will guarantee the peace of the Magical World...!"

Dumbledore's body tensed.

To ensure peace ...

This means that at some point the Wizarding World would go to war.

"...Sharing of indissoluble bonds, both will witness an unimaginable love to be born and to consume them, however, their love will face numerous obstacles and their paths will be full of traps..."

"...But their destinies were born and will always be intertwined and only with the hidden knowledge, both will obtain the key to overcome the martyrs to afflict to them.."

A couple to whom the world would oppose.

A couple that would eventually save this same world.

Her body stopped shaking and she started to cough looking at Dumbledore curiously as he looked at her. "...Sorry, headmaster. ... Did I say something?"

"Oh, no," he smiled, looking down from his half-moon glasses. "Actually the interview is over. Welcome to Hogwarts, Sibyl."

 


End file.
